When I was a graduate student in psychology in the early 1970s, my school wanted to expose students to mind and body experiences, including Tai Chi Chuan, Yoga and Aikido, a martial art. These were offered as classes with local teachers. I first took Tai Chi, taught by Master Chung. I loved the lyrical movements and their names — “Carry tiger to mountain.” I also tried Aikido, a martial art developed by a Japanese martial art master, Ueshiba, in the early 1930s. He synthesized a number of different martial arts into a completely defensive approach that harmonizes with the energy of the attacker. To the onlooker, Aikido looks like a dance, but it’s very powerful and gentle at the same time. Ueshiba’s goal was for the student to overcome his own fighting mind. I fell in love with this martial art and, during graduate schoo,l earned my brown belt. After I graduated, my wife and I moved across the country to the East Coast and raised our family. Needless to say, between work and parenthood, I wasn’t able to practice.
But in the early 1990s, we moved to Seattle, and when our kids were teens, I started practicing again at the tender age of 46. For the next 20 years, I practiced several days a week, attended workshops and conferences and attained my 2nd degree Black Belt. Having no natural talent and being physically uncoordinated, learning Aikido was probably the hardest mountain I’ve climbed — much harder than getting my Ph.D. in Clinical Psychology.
When I became a senior student, I was often asked to be the personal assistant, or “Otomo,” for our chief instructor. The purpose of Otomo practice is to quiet one’s mind and totally attend to the needs of the instructor — to anticipate her wishes before she’s aware of them and well before she verbalizes them. It’s important to do so in a way that isn’t intrusive. It’s not a role that Western students seek — to be subservient to the needs of one’s teacher. But actually, it’s a very interesting experience. It helps students get out of their own heads. Also, it requires a high degree of inner calm.
Parents are the perfect Otomo for their children. They anticipate when their kids need to eat before they scream for food. They notice when their kids are tired, need to go to the bathroom, or are overcooked — hopefully, well before a meltdown. It requires that their awareness is always hovering over their kids. It comes naturally to moms and dads — and grandparents, too.
But what about being an Otomo to your partner? It’s an interesting experiment to spend a morning or afternoon as your loved one’s Otomo. How can I assist my wife with her needs before she verbalizes them? How can I anticipate her needs? How can I serve her? We may do this naturally when our loved one is sick — bringing him chicken soup when he has a cold, or making sure she has water beside her bed. But bringing this awareness into everyday life can help us stay connected with our loved one in a different way. I do think that some partners do this naturally. But many couples, over time, forget their loved one can be a source of happiness, meaning and joy. They take each other for granted. And when that happens, partners feel resentful and neglected. And they start to wonder what their loved one has done for them lately. It’s not a happy place.
So, one morning, without telling your partner, be her Otomo. Focus your attention on her needs, wishes and desires — anticipate them. Don’t ask for appreciation or make a big announcement.
You’ll be surprised by what you learn.
Paul Schoenfeld is a clinical psychologist at The Everett Clinic. His Family Talk blog can be found at www. everettclinic.com/ healthwellness-library.html.
Talk to us
> Give us your news tips.
> Send us a letter to the editor.
> More Herald contact information.
